The Chronicles of Eloise Portman
by anarose100
Summary: Young Eloise Portman has never considered herself normal. But when she moves with her parents to London, she finds out why. Her parents are a witch and wizard, and she holds the power of magic as well.


CHAPTER ONE: NEW HOME

The wind blew my air into a tattered mess as we drove on to our new home. It was odd having to drive on the other side of the road. I was glad I didn't have my permit yet because this would be just absolutely nerve-racking.

My parents though knew what they were doing. They grew up in London. Less than twenty years ago though, they moved to the states where I was born and raised as an All-American girl.

I remember only a month ago my parents decided to move back to London taking me along with them only because I couldn't live by myself at only fourteen years old. I didn't act like I was only a young teen though. I acted like a grown up. 'Too mature' as my mother said.

At school in my hometown of Seattle, Washington, I had always been known as the weird girl, an outsider. I was always in the corner of a room with a novel in my hands ignoring my surroundings. No one ever really talked to me. I didn't have any friends. I was pretty much a loner.

Now I was leaving all that behind. I would become a different person. Getting my nose out of the book and looking out into the world.

I brushed a blonde look behind my ear and took out my left ear bud.

"Are we there yet?" I asked staring out the window.

Mom looked back at me. "Not yet, Eloise. Almost though."

I sighed cranking my music back up.

For fourteen years I had had to live with the horrid name of Eloise. It so didn't fit me. Eloise was someone who dressed up in frilly skirts with the ruffles and works. Who went to tea parties and became a debutante. I was not that kind of girl.

I wore ripped up shirts and lace-up boots. I stayed at home reading through all the classic books that sat on the shelves in my bedroom. I rocked out in the car on long road trips. I was so not an 'Eloise'.

At least it was easier to spell and pronounce than my full name of a mouth full Miaheloise. How my parents came up with that name nobody will ever know.

Finally the car stopped in a quaint little almost suburban looking area.

The house was charming. Two stories but still small. At least it wasn't an apartment like back home in Seattle.

I hopped out the car and started towards the house, my parents followed close behind. I walked up the two front porch steps and to the door.

Dad stepped in front of me with the key unlocking the door.

The smell of paint hit me first followed by several other fragrances of a newly refurbished home. We stepped inside onto the wooden floors. Somehow, it seemed bigger inside than it was outside. But I knew that was impossible.

Dad carried in some of the luggage and sat it down in the living room.

"This is nice," he said looking around.

It was so old-fashioned. A wood-burning fire place made in stone sat in the corner of the room. Small couch and chairs sat in a half-circle in front of the fire place decorated in patterned pillows. The wall was painted a cream color and the lighting was dim.

So different from our retro style at our old home.

I sighed. "Where's my room?"

"Upstairs. At the end of the hall, I think," Mom told me.

I trudged up the stairs that creaked under my weight. There were four doors in the hall. Three bedrooms I suspected, and probably a bath.

I walked all the way to the end of the hall and opened the door.

The room was set up in such an odd way. The bed was in the middle, the rest of the furniture surrounding it. The window was boarded up with ply wood. Hadn't people over here heard about curtains?

The shelves were covered in dust. The bed was covered in plastic. What the heck?

There were footsteps on the landing, only seconds later Mom appeared in the doorway.

I turned to her giving her a look. "Was there a murder in here or something?"

Mom laughed and shook her head. "No, sweetie. There was not."

I motioned towards where the furniture was packed in a circle. "Well, then what's up with this?"

She started walking farther into the room and ran her fingers along the dusted dresser. Then she sat on the bed making a squeaky sound against the plastic.

"The previous owners believed they were witches," she explained. "This was from them perfoming a tasks. Probably trying to speak to the spirits."

I raised my eyebrows. "Dead people? Witches? Seriously?"

"They weren't actually witches of course. They just believed they were," Mom assured me.

I stared over at the boarded up windows. "Yeah, because magic doesn't exist."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw my mom flinch. What was she flinching about? Magic was fake. A fairytale story. It couldn't be real.

When I woke up the next morning, on the couch of course, I looked over to the fireplace. There was a stack of letters. Right smack dab in the middle of the fireplace. Luckily, there was no fire at the time because of the time of year.

I crawled over to it too tired to get up on my feet. I picked up the first letter. Written on the back of the envelope in beautiful calligraphy were my parents' names. "To Thomas and Isabel Portman."

There was no return address stamped anywhere.

I slid my finger under the seal ripping it open. But before I could unfold the piece of paper, there were footsteps from behind me.

My mother walked in sleepy-eyed. Her dark blonde hair a mane around her face in curls.

"Awake already, Eloise?" she asked. "What are doing crouching down in front of the fireplace?"

I held up the letter to her.

Her blue eyes widened as she saw my confused face and letter all in the same moment. She quickly snatched it out of my hand.

"Miaheloise Portman! You know not to go through other people's mail!" she yelled at me.

I stood up holding my hand up. "Sorry! Sue me! What would you do if you woke up and saw a stack of letter where a fire is supposed to be?"

Mom bent down and picked the rest of the letters out of the fire place. "That doesn't give you any right to do so though!"

"Why were they in the fireplace then, huh?" I questioned her. "Will you answer that for me?"

She stood up straight putting the letters behind her back as if she was trying to hide them from me. "No, I will not, Eloise. Because it does not concern you."

She turned around then going back up the stairs. It wasn't hard to hear how mad she was as she stomped up the stairs.

I sat back on the couch still puzzled to why mail would be in the fireplace. First off, how did it get there? And what was so much of a secret that I didn't need to know about it?

It was the beginning of August. School was going to begin in a month and I still had no clue where I was going to attend for the next four years.

I was fourteen which meant I was beginning high school this year.

This didn't scare me though. I had gone throughout the last eight years of school being an outsider. A weirdo. Why I was so different, I didn't know. But if never really bothered me.

The only really good thing about having no friends was that I didn't have anybody to miss back in the states.

My only hope was that I would actually make a friend or two this year at my new school.

I spent the next couple of day moving everything into my room. Dad took off all the wood on my windows and replaced it with curtains. I put the furniture in its rightful place putting everything up against the wall.

The shelves couldn't hold all my books, so I piled half of them under my bed and in other various places categorizing them.

Mom was still acting weird, but she seemed to almost forget about the letters.

However, I was still curious about them. And I hope to figure out what they were all about one way or another.


End file.
